


The First Time We Spoke

by zhiantara



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-13
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-03-17 16:23:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13662759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zhiantara/pseuds/zhiantara
Summary: Rhys has a gift for Feyre on their wedding day: a keepsake from when his lonely soul had first reached out to hers.





	The First Time We Spoke

“What do you mean, ‘ _He’s not here_ ’?”

Nesta still had not quite grasped the volume needed to prevent her voice from reaching fae ears across a room. If she had, she certainly would have hissed those words to Cassian far more quietly, so that Feyre wouldn’t hear them from where she sat at the vanity.

Elain, seated beside Feyre, had heard Nesta as well, judging by the glare she sent towards the door. Her grip on the makeup brush tightened as she pulled it back from where she’d been dusting silver powder over Feyre’s eyelids. “ _Nesta_ ,” she said through clenched teeth, in a warning tone that she’d used maybe twice in Feyre’s life.

Nesta whipped her head towards her sisters, her eyes widening. She flung her arm through the cracked open door in a swatting motion as she snapped, barely loud enough for Feyre to hear, “Go find him, then! Didn’t he ever teach his dog how to fetch?” Then she slammed the door shut against Cassian’s indignant sputtering.

Elain shook off her scowl as she returned her attention to Feyre’s makeup. She was all smiles once again, but Feyre knew her gentle sister well enough to spot the fire blazing beneath that serene mask. “So many interruptions! Don’t they know it’s your wedding day?”

The soft hands twining through Feyre’s hair barely paused as Cerridwen knelt to whisper, “I’m sure it is nothing to worry about.”

Feyre smiled at the handmaiden in the mirror. When she replied, she did so loud enough to address her sisters as well. “Oh, I’m not worried. As long as he’s not off doing anything reckless half an hour before our wedding starts.”

More to assuage her curiosity than out of any real concern, Feyre sent a teasing caress down the mating bond. _I hear you’ve decided to skip out on me._

_Not at all_ , came the immediate response. Rhys was on high alert, it seemed. _There is nothing on this earth that could keep me from you today._

She wondered if it would ever diminish--that warmth that coursed through her very blood as he spoke to her. Still, she couldn’t free him from this so easily, especially if he was up to no good on their wedding day. And if he ended up being late, she’d tease him about it for centuries. _So where is my future husband?_

Again, the response was immediate, and likely practiced. _Just some last minute alterations to my jacket._

_Oh? So if I sent Nesta down to visit your tailor, she’d find you there?_

There was a brief pause. Not entirely prepared, then. _What makes you think I have only one tailor?_

_As if you’d trust multiple people with your precious wardrobe._

“Eyes closed,” Elain’s voice interrupted, and Feyre did as requested to let her sister apply more powder.

Feyre bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smirking as she said down the bond, _And here I thought you were a good liar. How did you manage to fool all of Prythian?_

_Fooling everyone else is child’s play. Fooling my clever mate is another matter entirely._

Elain’s fingertips braced against Feyre’s chin as she carefully traced a line of kohl atop her lashes. _And why would you be trying to fool me on our wedding day?_

_It’s nothing nefarious, I assure you._

Cold, simple logic told her that there was nothing to be concerned about, that Rhys would not keep any knowledge of danger from her. But logic couldn’t always keep Feyre’s old fears at bay. She didn’t bother to stem that trickle of trepidation--she wouldn’t hide it, not from him--as she spoke down the bond, _No danger?_

Reassurance, warm and strong, reverberated down the bond like a plucked harp string. _No danger at all. As long as you don’t send Nesta to hunt me down._

She stifled her laugh, only because it would have ruined the stain Elain was now painting on her lips. _You should be more worried about Elain. She’s determined that nothing should go wrong today._

_I think I’d prefer to face Nesta’s wrath._

Feyre gazed into the mirror as Cerridwen put the finishing touches on her curled and intricately braided hair. _And if I did send my sisters on a hunt for my wayward mate, where would I send them?_

_Unnecessary_ , he replied, even as Cassian’s booming voice echoed down the hall: “Found him! Everyone relax!” _I’m back, and with plenty of time to spare._

This time, Feyre did laugh, not in the least part because of how Nesta leaned her back against the door and groaned. _And do I get to learn where you wandered off to?_

_You’ll find out tonight, Feyre darling. I promise._

Feyre did indeed find out, late that night, after the festivities were over and the other residents of their house had found other places to continue the celebration. Rhys had insisted they stop by the townhouse before they left for the cabin, where they would spend an as-yet-undetermined amount of time in blissful solitude.

As they entered their bedroom, Rhys took her lightly by the hand and twirled her, causing her shimmering skirts to flare out like an unfurling blossom. She’d worked with the seamstress to design the wedding dress herself. It was much like the dress she’d worn at that blissful Starfall, but with a silver-white sheen that gradually faded to a skirt of midnight blue. Tiny diamonds were woven into the fabric, glimmering in countless constellations.

“My lady of starlight,” Rhys murmured as he pulled her close.

She smiled and pressed her hands to his chest. “My lord of night,” she crooned, and she kissed him on the nose.

They stood in front of the dresser now, and Feyre realized that when he’d twirled her and took her in his arms, he’d been guiding her to this exact spot. Rhys turned her to face the dresser, wrapping his arms around her shoulders, and he placed a soft kiss upon her cheek.

A section of the top of the dresser had been cut away to allow another piece of wood to be inserted there, bordered by dark blue resin. The newly embedded wood was painted with simple blues and yellows in a rudimentary starscape. A sight that was all too familiar. One that had brought her comfort in lonely days. Feyre let out a gasp that was nearly a sob.

“When I went missing today,” he explained, “it was to check in with the woodworker to make sure it would be done in time.”

“You found it,” she whispered, her voice trembling, and she reached up to clutch his arms. “You went back and found it.”

“It was the first time we spoke.” He squeezed her shoulders. “Even though we didn’t realize it.”

Feyre placed her hand upon the painted stars--the hand that Rhys had seen all those years ago. The hand he had reached out for, that he’d sought to comfort even as he lay drowning his own despair. Two lost souls seeking each other through the void, making stars when they touched at last.

Rhys rested his hand atop hers, atop the stars they had once shared with each other--that they would share now for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note:**

> My first time writing Feysand! I had fun with this, hopefully it turned out all right. Thank you so much for reading!


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